It was raining.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008 at 10:32pm

It was raining.
We were drinking overpriced smoothies and coffees when he passed.
He walked like sadness, hands in his pockets.
He lit a cigarette to remember or forget.
He told us it was his birthday tomorrow.
We feigned interest and returned to our much more significant selves.
He walked away into the rain, into a Subway across the parking lot.
This time, I wouldn't fail.
I walked in and asked if there was a restroom.
There wasn't.
I stood there awkwardly pretending that I was deciding on something to eat.
I finally turned as the cashier left for the back.
Did you eat yet?
No.
Want a sandwich?
He nodded an enthusiastic yes.
'Ham and cheese' as if it was all he knew or cared for.
We stood together in front of the condiments.
He loved ham and cheese.
I saw the pills in his pockets.
I judged him.
He smelled like weeks without a shower.
I judged him again.
He was turning 54 tomorrow.
I told him he didn't look a day over 40.
It was a lie.
Chips or a drink with that?
He liked his Doritos too.
He put out his hand to shake mine.
I hesitated for a second, wondering if I might get sick or worse.
I grabbed it and felt a strong overworked hand in mine.
Alright brother, I'm gonna take off.
Ok, thanks.
Happy Birthday.

I didn't catch his name but he was my brother.
I almost cried on the way home; on the way to my warm, dry bed.